


New Sum (Nous sommes)

by medric



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: Campaign: The Unsleeping City, F/M, Marijuana, Moving In Together, Multi, Pregnancy Scares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:27:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23597581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medric/pseuds/medric
Summary: Mostly, Ricky feels good about ending his lease and moving in with Esther in her place.
Relationships: Ricky Matsui/Esther Sinclair, implied Ricky/Esther/Pete
Comments: 13
Kudos: 136





	New Sum (Nous sommes)

**Author's Note:**

> Was it a trick of light? shook my head from side to side,  
> I seen a million lines, the finest thread strung spine to spine  
> \- [New Sum (Nous Sommes), Hey Rosetta!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3rd1mlKl-CE)
> 
> there just ain't enough unsleeping city on this here website for my likin

Mostly, Ricky feels good about ending his lease and moving in with Esther in her place. It’s like when he moved out from his parents’ place and had to switch gyms, because even though he liked his old gym, the first one he’d ever been to and the one with Jean-Philippe the trainer who’d taught him pretty much everything, the new gym was closer to his new -- now old -- apartment and has good smoothies and the men in the sauna are always very nice to him. They really are such great guys. They always ask him about his workout routine, and how his muscles get so toned. Ricky is happy to share his tips, and they never get tired of listening, no matter how many questions he answers and how sweaty he gets in the sauna. 

Well, at least he doesn’t have to leave this gym for a new one. Esther’s place is in Brooklyn too, just a few blocks away, and Rowan helped them pay for a place for Gabriela and Patricia in the same building, which worked out amazing. So really, Ricky feels good about it.

It is a little sad, though, packing his bags and emptying out the place for good. He’s lived here for five years, almost to the day, and he’s had a lot of awesome times here. Lots of healthy meals, afternoons training with John, John and John, and Pete too lately, and of course Esther came by a lot, and they… well. There was one time where she was like ‘Hey, you can be a little rougher with me, you know?’ and that was a little confusing because he didn’t want to hurt her, he loves her and would never hurt her on purpose, but then she explained it was like, just a sex thing and it was fun for her sometimes for him to slap her ass or something, and he they tried it and it turned out to be fun even though he felt bad after because there was a red mark the shape of his hand on her buttcheek for like an hour after. She didn’t seem to mind. 

They’ve done that a few times since, but he’ll always remember that the first time was in this apartment. 

And then there was the time a couple weeks after that where Esther was already home when he got back from his shift at work -- this was before he quit, of course -- and she was looking really sad and beautiful but she always looks beautiful so it was more jarring to see her looking sad. Or maybe not sad -- concerned? It was something different. After the curse was lifted she said she finally felt like she could be sad again, so Ricky spends a lot of time with her crying on his shoulder. About everything, really. Yesterday it was a video of a duckling and a kitten sleeping together. 

Okay, so Ricky might have cried a little at the ducking and the kitten too. They were just like, really cute. Way too cute.

Regardless, that time a few months ago when he got home from work and she was sitting on his couch and looked concerned, fidgeting with her rings and biting her lip and before he could even greet her, she said --

“Ricky, my period’s late.”

And he said: “Oh. Okay.”

She looked at him and he looked at her then he said: “Wait. Your period’s late?”

Esther stood up and they just looked at each other some more. 

“Only a few days late,” she said then. “Could be just, like, a fluke.”

“We use protection,” he said. “We always use protection.”

In fact he is very adamant about it especially because Esther can’t use regular birth control because of the hereditary nature of the curse or something -- both she and Kingston had explained it to him but frankly, it’s difficult to absorb everything they say when they start using magical or medical terms and when it’s both at once, well. There’s no way he’s going to remember. 

“I know, babe, but like, no protection is 100% effective.”

He must have stood there and stared for a while trying to understand that because eventually Esther snapped her fingers in front of his face and he blinked to see her before him, tears in her eyes. And giving her a hug seemed like the right thing to do. 

In the end it was a fluke. They found out the next morning when Esther woke him up, crying because she’d bled through her pyjamas, and he didn’t know if it was happy tears or sad tears and when he asked, she said she didn’t know either. Then he cried too, because he’d spent most of the night thinking about it and he’d finally gotten used to the idea of -- well, them being parents and having a child together, because how awesome would that be, and they both cried together, which was messy but good because they loved each other and they’d learned something new about themselves just then.

Okay, so Ricky’s been doing a lot more crying than normal lately. But the Johns say it’s good to cry so he doesn’t feel too bad about it, and Esther doesn’t look at him any differently. 

Pete came to stay with him once in this apartment too, around the time Liz started spending more and more nights at Kingston’s and Pete got his job at the bookstore and he began to look for a place of his own. In the meantime Ricky let him sleep on the couch. Actually, Ricky offered him his own bed, but Pete insisted.

“Dude, I’ve slept on so many people’s couches that I’m like, way more comfortable on them than on a real bed. Plus, you’ve got Esther.”

“Oh,” said Ricky, “if we want to have sex we can just go to her place. It’s only a few blocks away.” This was after the slapping thing and he was starting to feel more comfortable talking about sex. 

“What? No, that’s not -- what? Why would you -- no, oh my God. You think I’m some kind of perv who want to listen to like, the two hottest people in New York have sex? God, no, that’s not what I meant.”

“I don’t think that,” said Ricky. Then, “you think we’re the hottest people in New York?”

“Fuck, no, I mean, yes, I do, I mean -- you’re just going to have, like, really pretty babies one day, you know?”

This was before the period thing and Ricky was not so comfortable talking about babies yet.

“Babies?”

“Forget I said anything,” said Pete. “Let’s work out.”

So they did even though Ricky had already gone for a run in the morning. That night after supper Ricky made -- a stir-fry with whatever he had brought with him from Kingston’s fridge which made for a strange combination of tastes but whatever, the two of them weren’t picky -- Pete pulled out a bag of weed and a red glass pipe and waved it at Ricky.

“You wanna smoke?”

Ricky frowned. He didn’t know where to start with that question.

“I thought you were sober now.”

Pete shrugged but looked at least a little apologetic. “Weed is barely anything, you know. It just takes the edge off.”

“I heard -- I heard marijuana is a gateway drug.”

Pete laughed. “What, did you hear that on an after school special when you were a kid?”

“Yes,” said Ricky. “Also it’s bad for your lungs.”

“Probably,” Pete said. “You wanna try? If you say no, I’ll never pressure you again until next time I do.”

This was a dilemma. Ricky had never smoked anything before, and indeed had only gotten drunk a couple times, but Esther smokes sometimes and she gets all sweet and giggly and cuddly when she does, and at the time, when Pete was offering him this pipe, it seemed nice. When Sofia smokes with Pete she melts a little, gets soft around the edges like she really is when she isn’t pretending to be tough and rude and feisty. Rowan tells stories, fantastic tales that could be true or they could not, no one ever knows. And Ricky usually just watches them and makes sure they have enough to eat and drink plenty of water and have warm blankets to curl themselves up in. 

Plus, his lungs are probably like, really healthy, being a firefighter and all. Maybe.

“Sure,” he said. 

Pete laughed. “What, really? For real?”

“I guess,” said Ricky. “But not inside. It’s a fire hazard.”

“Yeah, of course, cool, cool, cool,” Pete said quickly. “Let’s go on the fire escape.”

Pete stood close and held his thumb to the hole on the pipe and told him when to breathe. Really, it tasted bad and scraped at Ricky’s throat as it made its way into his lungs where he tried to hold it like Pete told him too, but that just made him cough and cough until he had tears streaming down his face. There were sirens blaring a few blocks away, and the sun was setting later then because spring was near, and it was warm for once outside. He was worried his neighbours would smell this and be disappointed in him, and he was worried he’d never stop coughing, until he did.

“Hey man, you okay?” Pete said. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m awesome.” His mouth and throat and eyes stung but for some reason he didn’t want Pete to know that.

“Are you?”

“Is something supposed to happen to me? I don’t feel any different.”

The only thing he felt was Pete’s body close to his and the fire escape ladder through his shirt. He still remembers it now: the cold metal at his back, warm breath at his front, his lungs, burning.

“Not yet. Sometimes, the first time someone smokes weed it’s like, they haven’t gotten the hang of it yet, you know, so it doesn’t -- it doesn’t work right. Do you wanna take another hit?”

Ricky pulled out his phone and swiped for the camera app. 

“Let’s take a selfie first,” he said, and turned as he held up the camera to include Pete and the glinting pipe in the shot. The setting sun bathed their faces in golden pink light, and Ricky’s eyes were red from the coughing and whatnot, and it was a good picture. Pete’s cheeks rose and his eyes got squinty when he smiled -- it happened much more, recently, and Rowan always said it was very endearing.

“That’s a good one,” said Ricky. He sent it to Esther. Maybe she would come home from the Chantry sooner if she saw it.

“Yeah?” Pete said. He held up the pipe when Ricky turned around to face him again. “Here.”

That’s the last time Ricky smoked and he doesn’t think he’ll do it again but Esther got a kick out of him when she got home and joined in, and Pete smiled some more that night and the next morning too and really the next couple weeks until he found a place and they all helped him move in and clean and decorate and Ricky thinks maybe something changed that night, though he’s not sure what -- he’s happy to wait until he figures it out.

There was, of course, the time Sofia decided to invite her friends from Staten Island to his place. She realized quickly after New Year’s Eve that burning your house down and abandoning your life to live in a monastery in the clouds is easier said than done, and frankly it’s not that easy to say either, and her friends from the salon deserved -- if not an explanation, then at least some closure. Ricky’s place was a strange choice in his opinion but most of the time it’s best not to argue with Sofia. In any case she cleaned out the wine stains from his carpet so well it looked brand new when she was done.

Wally came to visit once. He had lost the address and Ricky’s phone number somehow and had been walking around the block lost until Ricky heard a tap-tap-tap at the window.

“Hey Ricky,” said a pigeon. Ricky didn’t know who this pigeon was. Their voices kind of all sounded the same. “I think someone’s lookin’ for ya down there.”

Sure enough, there was Wally, scratching his head and holding up an old crumpled-up map in his hands.

“Huh,” said Ricky. “Didn’t even know he could read.”

“I don’t think he can,” said Esther. “That’s a map of Newark.”

“He got closer than should be expected then,” said the pigeon. “I’ll go tell him you’re waiting for him here.”

“Wow! A talking pigeon!” they heard Wally yell after the bird flew down and Esther laughed and went to let him in. 

There were lots of other visits, good days and good nights. More than Ricky even knew before he started really thinking about it. Esther assures him there will be many more of those at their new place. Her old place, their new place, together. She’s probably right. She’s right about most things. So he takes her hand in his and his last suitcase in his other and turns off the light one last time and closes the door. 

**Author's Note:**

> find me [@fjordhavemercy](https://www.fjordhavemercy.tumblr.com)


End file.
